


Unfamiliar Rhythms

by gray-streaks (starksgrace)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Multiple Languages AU, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24187510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksgrace/pseuds/gray-streaks
Summary: And if Katara’s slightly terrified of speaking her own language, a language that is still spoken by at least a few thousand people, then what must Aang feel? He’s the only one in the world that speaks -She doesn’t even know what it’s called.Somehow, she’d never even thought to ask.
Relationships: Aang & Katara (Avatar)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 199





	Unfamiliar Rhythms

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written in something like one sitting when I couldn't find anything like it to scratch the itch... over a year ago. It's been on Tumblr the whole time so if it looks familiar there is a chance you've actually seen it before. We're here now because... I finally have a title!
> 
> That said, this particular itch is back and I STILL can't find anything so if you know of a fic that follows this, I'd love to see it.

They all know, objectively speaking, that he’s the last. In some ways Aang is so  _ different _ from everybody else they know and from everybody new they meet that, in theory, it should be hard to forget. 

There’s the obvious, of course, the things you can tell at a glance from across the busiest of marketplaces: his clothes, the tattoos, Appa (not that the flying bison spends much time at the market), the airbending he uses on things that really don’t need to be airbended - something that drove the rest of them crazy until Toph pointed out that, technically speaking,  _ she’s _ always bending, that Katara hasn’t picked up the pot to refill her mug in months, that Zuko once forgot to pack their flint because he’s never had to use it and thought it was just a rock. But those are all things that are surprisingly easy to get used to and, as time goes on, it’s the stares Aang gets every time they land somewhere new that seem strange.

Then there are the little things - things that when they manage to stay in one place long enough they can see people trying to pin down and, if they stay even longer, eventually get shrugged off as “Well, he  _ is _ the  _ Avatar _ , of  _ course _ he walks funny.” Except, obviously, there’s nothing wrong with the way he walks - one step at a time, just like everybody else - but he’s so light on his feet, even when solidly planted on the ground, that Katara finds herself waiting for him to just float away. No airbending required. Earthbending takes some of that away, tethers him enough that it visibly scares him and even Sokka is weirded out by it though, for once,  _ he _ keeps his mouth shut, and makes the way Aang moves seem a little more natural - like a dancer, perhaps, or an acrobat, but even Ty Lee doesn’t come close to matching him. For the most part, they get used to that too, but whenever somebody asks them what the Avatar is like, it’s one of the first things that comes to mind. 

Or the way he talks. It’s not that Aang’s multilingual - most people have at least a working, though purely practical, knowledge of Common and the number of people that  _ don’t _ understand (though most probably wouldn’t be able to speak more than a few words) Firetongue could probably be counted - but that he speaks without an accent, or rather with the most common version of the  _ right _ accent, every time. Yes, his vocabulary is noticeably dated sometimes and some meanings have changed enough that they lose him mid-sentence or have to stop him for clarification, but his overall fluency is so astounding that it’s usually not much of a problem. Most of the time, once their group got over his ability to have multiple conversations in just as many languages simultaneously, the non-pulsed, bewildered, and flat-out stumped expressions some people give the first time they hear him speak are down right hilarious and that’s  _ before _ he starts stopping to translate for the rest of them. Even Aang’s Common, the universal language that has nearly as many accents and pseudo-dialects as there are villages in the world, has a carefully neutral, near perfect blend of the three core accents - with just the slightest hint of a foreign upward tilt - that’s easily understood by just about everyone. (“The monks knew I was the Avatar before I could bend. They made sure I could make myself understood. Besides, we’re  _ nomads _ , Sokka.”) One hundred years ago, it was probably spot on.

He even  _ breathes _ differently. When he’s asleep or meditating Aang takes these long, slow, drawn out breaths that seem to go on for forever. At night, it’s soothing like the rock of a canoe on a calm day, the rhythm of the tides or, increasingly, the rolling motion of a flying bison at cruising altitude. During the day, whether its a nap or meditation, Katara finds herself stopping and watching, waiting for him to exhale just to be sure he’s actually breathing at all. The rest of the time is just a completely different story all together and when she first starts healing she nearly drives herself crazy trying to figure out his “normal.” It isn’t until Zuko tells a wide-eyed and excited Aang that firebending starts with breathing techniques only to have the Avatar sigh and completely deflate into the most half-hearted lotus position Katara’s ever seen that it really starts to come together.

“How many?” Aang asks in Common, his overall exhaustion and sudden, complete resignation making his natural accent shine through thicker than ever. 

When Zuko just blinks at him, he adds, “Because we need three before the monks will let us fly and another twelve to get our arrows and there’s at least a dozen after that because they keep -” He stops suddenly, closes his eyes, swallows the present tense and, it seems, his thickening accent because when he speaks again it, and the rest of him, is back under control. “They kept arguing over which one I should learn next, apparently there’s some debate over what’s best for waterbending. Turns out you don’t need them.” He laughs a little, painfully. “Which is… fine, totally fine. Learning how to breathe again for the five-hundredth time sucks, I didn’t want to do it anyway. How does this one go, again?”

These days they live on a one thing at a time basis. Waterbending. Earthbending. Firebending. Handle the crisis of the week as it happens. Deal with the comet when it gets here. Hope they’re ready. They try to plan ahead, something always comes along and ruins things, but they try - but not once have they seriously discussed what happens when it’s over. Aang talks about fixing things, like all of this is somehow his fault, but it’s times like this when the full reality of his situation crashes over him in an instant, with enough force to stop all of them in their tracks, that make Katara wonder what they can even do about it.

They’re just a bunch of kids. 

As far as these moments go, this is an easy one - there’s no glowing for one thing - but the lesson turns out to be a complete flop just the same. Aang can’t concentrate and Zuko… well it might be the first time Zuko’s seen Aang completely shatter like this. Eventually they look at each other and, with tired nods, just stand up and walk away. Zuko disappears into the forest and returns over an hour later with a truly depressing amount of firewood and red rimmed eyes. Aang, predictably, retreats to Appa and probably won’t come down for the rest of the night.

It’s hours later, long after dinner, when Toph nudges Katara and breaks their pretense of sleep - a pretense that would probably be more convincing if Toph had bent herself a hut like she does when she  _ really _ means to sleep. “I think he’s done.” She doesn’t specify more than that. They, as a group, have an unspoken rule about giving Aang the space he needs to grieve, to think, to get himself back under control, when he gets like this and though Toph can’t help but overhear more than the rest of them combined she respects it the best she can.

It’s a rule born out of both the belief that Aang will come to them when he’s ready to talk and the completely rational fear about what might happen if they push him to far. They push him in other ways, all the time, but this…. As long as he doesn’t completely run off and leave the camp, this is off limits. Still, as Katara gathers up the food she’d set aside for him - all things that will keep overnight knowing that she’ll probably catch him eating it for breakfast - and fills their largest water bottle, she wonders, again, if its the right thing to do.

“Aang? I’m coming up.”

He doesn’t protest and by the time she gets up to Appa’s neck, Aang’s sitting and wiping at his face with a shaking hand. Wordlessly, he takes the food and water and tucks it in at his side where it won’t roll off.

There’s a moment, a beat of awkward silence.

“Are you-” Katara stops, wincing at how ridiculous of a question it will be. “No, of course you’re not okay. And you probably want to be alone… I’ll just go.” She doesn’t even have time to turn around, barely has time to think about it.

“ _ Katara.” _

It’s just her name, really, nothing all that special about it, except nobody’s ever said it quite like that before. It’s just her name and you can’t really hear an accent in one word, but she  _ can _ and she’s never really heard this one on it’s own before - well okay, he says prayers before he eats at least once a day and he spends an increasing amount of time just talking to Appa but he does it so quietly like he’s trying to keep the words to himself that - well she’s not sure that it counts is all. And this is her  _ name _ .

His eyes drop, and his face normally so pale, flushes and she has about three seconds before he just tells her to leave so she takes a deep breath and says the one word in his native language that she is almost absolutely sure of. The one he uses sometimes when they call his name without adding the following question, the one that’s still so reflexive even after nearly a year of mostly Common.

_ “Y-yes, Aang?”  _

The words taste and feel… not wrong, precisely, and certainly not  _ bad _ , but completely different from the way that her first attempts at Earthtone (heavy, rough - almost like gravel, solid enough to hurt her teeth) and Firetongue (fast enough to burn, angry, full of bad memories.) Even for a girl from a village as isolated as the south pole, there was something soothing in the steady, almost slow, rhythms found in Earthtone. Something that reminded her of early twice-yearly trips to the closest market and full days spent with her dad. Somehow, the language of their closest neighbors was  _ just  _ familiar enough to be a comfort to a girl far away from home. Firetongue had held no good thoughts, but it’s too fast rhythms and harsh tones were seared into her brain and, at least, had been familiar. Aang’s language seems to be none of those things, but then, it’s hard to tell.

In any case, it comes out a bit garbled, a half-conscious attempt at mimicking Aang’s rarely heard accent confusing her tongue. Still, it must have been understandable because surprise makes Aang’s eyes larger than she’s ever seen them and, even in the poor light from the moon, she can see the blood drain from his face. He sways a little. A breath, a gasp really, catches in his his throat and it’s that noise - quiet, but somehow packed with that bone deep loneliness she sees in his eyes when he thinks they can’t see - that makes her realize what, exactly, she’s just done.

Below them, Appa shifts - a familiar, rolling motion - Katara moves with the gentle giant automatically, keeping her balance with practiced ease, wonders wildly if  _ Appa _ was responding to her stuttering attempt - after all it’s his language too - and reaches out to snag the front of Aang’s shirt just before he topples over backwards. The bison settles after just a few moments, but the boy, normally so incredibly at home on the huge, furry neck, continues to sway. It’s more than a little alarming and, not knowing what else to do, Katara pulls him in for a hug.

Aang doesn’t even hesitate, just mashes his face against Katara’s shoulder as soon as he’s close enough, digs his fingers into whatever part of her dress he happens to reach first, and  _ clings _ . She hadn’t noticed that he was trembling, but now he’s shaking her so hard that her teeth rattle.

_ Oh, Aang. _

They use Earthtone every day - of course, most of their time is spent in the Earth Kingdom, but Toph’s parents attempts at keeping her sheltered meant that her Common, while improving remarkably, was originally rather limited. Since her Wavetalk was, quite literally, nonexistent at the time, Earthtone became one language their whole group could speak with any degree of fluency. So, most of the time, Earthtone is what they use and Aang hasn’t had to provide a full translation in months. Though now that Zuko’s with them - with a working knowledge of Earthtone, Wavetalk and Common, as well as obviously being completely fluent in  _ modern _ Firetongue - that’s starting to change. As it turns out, Firetongue has changed the most over the last hundred years and, at times, even Aang seems to have a hard time keeping up.

But none of  _ that _ means that Wavetalk is completely unheard around their camp - it is, after all, what they spoke most before they picked up Toph and what Sokka and Katara still know best. However, though Aang sometimes get pulled into the conversation, these days Wavetalk is really only passed between Katara and Sokka themselves and often it’s because one of them just… wants to hear it.

She  _ knew  _ that. Switching to her own language, even with Sokka, is almost always a conscious decision these days. Wavetalk is just… impractical. Toph barely speaks it and, really, it’s the language Aang’s weakest at. Besides, aren’t they conspicuous enough? Water Tribe members don’t leave the poles very often and they certainly never go very far, but there’s new Fire Nation colonies all over the Earth Kingdom. Earthtone and Firetongue are just  _ safer _ , especially in parts of the world where even Common isn’t all that common. The entire world knows that the Avatar is back and traveling with a waterbender out of the Southern Water Tribe, speaking Wavetalk in the wrong village could get them killed.

And if Katara’s slightly terrified of speaking her own language, a language that is still spoken by at least a few thousand people, then what must Aang feel? He’s the  _ only one _ in the world that speaks - 

She doesn’t even know what it’s called.

Somehow, she’d never even thought to ask.

Katara’s arms are trapped between them, but she manages to wriggle them free and around Aang’s shoulders. They’re truly angled the wrong way for this - Aang’s leaning against her so hard he’s threatening to tip them both off Appa’s shoulders at any moment - so, after a minute or so of coaxing, she gets them turned around so she can lean back against the bison’s neck.

And now there’s a boy in her lap.

Okay.

That’s fine.

Aang curls close, resting his forehead against her neck, and his weight - something that always manages to catch them off guard - buries her deep into Appa’s fur. He doesn’t cry, not really, but she thinks that’s only because he’s already worn himself out. It’s not even what she’d define as “dry sobbing” in anybody else, his breathing is far too controlled for that - but then, doesn’t it have to be? Still, it feels about the same and she responds automatically.

One arm tightens around him, holding him steady. A constant, solid reminder that he isn’t alone. She’s right here. Just like Gran-gran always was for her. But her own isolation as the only waterbender in the Southern Water Tribe seems like  _ nothing _ compared to this and Gran-gran had only helped so much. Still, what else can she do?

He mumbles something into her collarbone. It’s muffled enough that Katara’s not even sure the language, but it seems encouraging enough.

Aang doesn’t have hair to stroke, so Katara just slides her free hand down the back of his head. She does it a second time, and a third, but it’s awkward enough that Aang chokes out something that might be a laugh. 

“Sorry,” she murmurs quietly, in Common, because Wavetalk feels  _ wrong _ and she just doesn’t know the word she actually wants to use. 

Her hand settles on the nape of his neck and, it takes her a moment to notice, but her thumb rubs that point at the base of his head, right where the line of his arrow crosses from his skull to his spine. He scrubs his hand at it sometimes himself - when he’s thinking, or embarrassed, or has a headache - and… well, crying always gives  _ her  _ a headache. It’s so surprisingly intimate that she almost stops, but for reasons she can’t quite explain, she presses her thumb in just a little harder instead. 

Aang gasps, just a little, and he’s been shaking this whole time, but that was different. More like a shiver. 

She stops.

He groans softly, disappointed, and mumbles some more. Shakes his head.

It’s less muffled this time, enough that she’s sure he’s speaking his own language, and… well, she definitely hears her name at the end. The word at the beginning  _ might _ be a “no,” not that she’d claim that with any degree of certainty, but she knows the tone well enough.

“Don’t stop?” She runs her thumb back across his neck.

He shivers again, and then, with a sigh, relaxes more or less completely. “ _ Yes.”  _ It’s quiet, barely even a whisper, and followed by a string of words she can’t understand, but that doesn’t seem to matter.

Slowly, feeling that he isn’t going to stop anytime soon, Katara leans her cheek against the top of his head and just lets him talk. At some point, she starts rubbing his shoulders instead. They’re all stressed, but for all that he’s usually the one that ends their inevitable, sniping arguments, Aang’s the worst of them all and seems so tense that sometimes he’s hard to look at. Maybe she can help with that, just a little.

It takes him a while to stop, though not nearly as long as Katara thought it might, and she thinks it’s still early enough to be late (as opposed to late enough to be early) when Aang gives a small, resigned sigh, and goes silent. Still, it’s been long enough that she’s gone completely still and settled in for a wait. She doesn’t quite realize he’s stopped until he slides out of her lap.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, opening her eyes and turning to look at him. She’d been drifting, floating among the unfamiliar rhythms and listening for words she might recognize. She’d noticed, over the course of learning Earthtone and Firetongue, that there’s some crossover between the languages, sure the connotations were almost always different and a word might be in both Earthtone and Firetongue, but not Wavetalk or in Wavetalk and Firetongue but not Earthtone, but the similarities are there is you know to look for them. Surely...

Aang laughs, just a little, and reaches for the water bottle she’d carried up earlier. Katara blinks, honestly surprised it hadn’t been knocked off ages ago, and waits while he drains about half of it. When he’s finished, he offers the bottle to her and then caps it and sets it aside when she shakes her head.

“I was babbling in a language you can’t understand, Katara, it’s okay if you fall asleep.”

“What? No, I wasn’t… Aang, I was  _ listening _ .” 

“Oh. Yeah?”

She reaches out, cups his cheek. “ _ Yes.” _

Aang reaches up and curls his fingers around hers. She feels him swallow. 

“I knew I missed Windspeak, but…” he laughs again, for real this time, even if its more than a little self-deprecating, and turns his cheek into their combined hands. “Katara, you say one word and I just…”

“Windspeak, of course.”

He grins and lets their hands fall. Doesn’t let go. “Oh, you know what Common does to their names. And, really, it’s better than Wavetalk.”

“Hey!”

This time when he laughs it comes easily. For a moment, they just grin at each other, and then his face falls, but only a little. He still sounds decidedly amused when he asks, “Its only word you know, isn’t it?”

“The only one I’m sure of.” She pauses. Takes a breath. “But it has a lot in common with Wavetalk doesn’t it? I bet I could -”

“No, Katara.” For a moment, he’s the Avatar, but it doesn’t last for long. “Well, yes, it does. But it’s…. Superficial?” He frowns. “No, that’s not right. Coincidental? Air and water both have currents but they’re  _ different _ . It’s something like that.” He shakes his head. “It’s why Wavetalk gives me so much trouble… oh don’t look at me like that. I’m supposed to be perfect at it and I’m not.”

She decides to let that go. There’s something more important to focus on. “You don’t want to teach me?”

“Spirits, Katara, of  _ course _ I do. I’m about  _ this close _ to trying to teach Momo. But I’m not going to get us all killed because the wrong person hears it. I can’t lose anybody else because I did something stupid.” He swallows, clutches at her hand, “Katara, I  _ can’t _ .” His voice cracks, just a little, and she can hear the fear, not only of losing them, but what he could do if it happens.

This time when she cups his cheek, its with her other hand. Slowly, uncertainty, she presses their foreheads together. “Sweetie, I’m  _ sorry. _ ”

_ Sweetie. _ Whoops.

Aang’s eyes flicker closed and he shifts a little, presses back. Their noses bump together. When he speaks he sounds exhausted, not really like himself at all. “None of this is your fault, Katara.”

“We speak four languages  _ everyday _ and it never even crossed my mind that there should be a  _ fifth. _ That’s on all of us. On me. And  _ I’m sorry.” _

“I speak it. All the time.”

“Appa’s great, Sweetie, but he doesn’t exactly talk back.”

Aang just sighs. Leans in a little tighter. Bumps their noses again. 

Katara swallows. What are they doing? Hardly anything at all, true, but…  _ but. _

He deserves so much more than this.

Something about that thought terrifies her. And yet… doesn’t. And  _ that _ terrifies her even more. 

A light touch on her face. 

Katara opens her eyes - when did she close them? - and is somehow surprised to find him watching her. All exhausted gray eyes and worry. 

“Are  _ you _ okay?”

She stares at him, more than a little incredulous, but it’s  _ so Aang _ . 

“I mean… I’m a mess, I know I am, I’m so far out of balance right now it’s… probably not a good thing, but… you just look… weird.” He grimaces and pulls away, both of their hands drop. “Not a bad weird,” he adds hurriedly, “it’s kind of a… good weird, but it’s not normal.”

“I’m... just tired,” it’s not exactly true, but it’s certainly not a lie. The pace they’ve had to keep lately is wearing all of them down, and that’s just from the traveling. She barely manages to get through waterbending practice and Aang… well she can’t figure out where he finds the energy to make it through all three. “...and so are you. Come on.”

“That’s not…” Aang sighs and his shoulders slump, “okay. Okay. But I’m good up here, I… Appa’s better than a blanket.”

“Not tonight.” He does it all the time - she and Sokka have sleeping bags, Toph bends her hut, Zuko has a tent, and Aang’s got Appa - it’s normal, but well, tonight wasn’t. “Sweetie, don’t be alone up here, not after that. Please.”

“You keep calling me that.”

“I -”

“It’s okay. I…” and Katara can’t  _ see _ the blush, a cloud’s gone over the moon and it’s too dark to see much of anything, but she thinks she can  _ hear  _ it. “I think I like it.” 

Katara smiles and, impulsively, presses her lips his arrow. “Come on, Sweetie.” 

Now they’re both blushing. So that’s okay.

This time, he doesn’t protest, just silently gathers up the water bottle and the bottle of food. She starts climbing down first, and she’s not exactly slow at it these days, but it’s dark and Aang’s hop down is a lot quicker on a good day, so by the time she makes it to the ground he’s waiting and halfway through an apple. Of course it helps that he’s probably starving - keeping Aang fed was a full time job before the growth spurt, now they’re just barely managing to keep up. It only gets harder when he decides to skip meals.

Katara runs a hand down the back of his head, meant to be a sort of silent “thank you,” but down on the ground it’s more than a little awkward, as if they’ve broke so sort of spell by leaving the greater safety of Appa’s back. Still, Aang looks up at her eyes shining, gives her the slightest of nods, and she knows he’s understood. 

He follows her back to the remains of the campfire more or less silently, finishes the apple in record time and drops the core where Momo’s sure to find it come morning, and works his way through the lychee nuts so fast she’s certain he’s just swallowing them whole. There’s more in the bag, but he drops it and the water bottle with the rest of the supplies as they pass. He waits until she’s tucked into her sleeping bag and then drops himself next to her. It takes a moment, but eventually slides over a little and curls up on his side so close their backs are touching. 

“You really want to learn Windspeak?”

“As soon as you’ll teach me.”

He lets out a breath and, just maybe, a few quiet words.

Katara smiles. “Goodnight, Sweetie.”


End file.
